I’m not one to look back, but occasionally the past taps me on the shoulder and I bellyflop into reminiscence like a deep sea diver. First, I indulge in the memories. Second, I become a master detective with Google’s search engine as my handy assistant. And third, I let my salty tears quench my thirst.
And so it was one evening, as I investigated a distant ex’s past to find that he had married a girl who lived on my street, bought a house a block over, and owned a business in the neighborhood. Still, even with proximity in our favor, we had never carved out a serendipitous moment. There was no magic Hollywood movie reconnection…ten years of walking the same streets within a mile radius and we’d never managed to bump into one another.
My tears turned to anger. “WHERE’S MY KISMET?” I asked aloud. (I was talking to God, whom I’m not afraid to yell at. Sometimes my God is a HER, but it’s easier for me to walk away from men, so that night HE was wearing a masculine energy.)
He didn’t answer me back…which always pisses me off. And then I felt a coldness wash over me…a chill that is normally reserved for souls I’ve loved that I am finally ready to leave behind…but this time it was for God. I realized, I no longer believed in him.
This wasn’t the relief you feel when you finally let go of a bad relationship. It was a heavy emptiness…and if that emptiness had a sound, it’d be the monotonous howl of the Emergency Alert System.
There was nothing left after that…so I pulled the covers over my exhausted mind and said goodbye to God.
The next morning, that emptiness, though diluted, reverberated in the background. I knocked on my neighbor’s door to collect a piece of jewelry she had stashed away for me. In one of my emotional breakups, I had tossed her this gemmed necklace to keep safe. It reeked of my current heartbreak and I didn’t want it taunting me. But that had been a year ago, and that morning not only was I over God, but I was over ALL my exes.
“Are you sure you want it back?” she asked. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Of course. It’s been a year. I don’t even think about him anymore. And it’ll look great with my outfit.”
The him in question was a man I had dated for five months. It was fast and furious—my specialty—and ended up burning out far quicker than it should it have. Let’s call him Pool Boy, because with his silky long black hair and Latino charm, he truly did belong poolside.
I slipped on the necklace for the first time in a year. What had started as a symbol of hope and possibility was now just ornament. And I laughed at my tendency to wrap inanimate objects with nostalgia.
Off I went to a Hollywood audition and decided to detour to Starbucks for a Frappucino treat. As I drove into the parking lot I saw a very familiar gait…thick wisps of black poking out of a beanie…and two big brown eyes that flicked with recognition, but that too quickly ruled out a connection. He might not have recognized me…but that was definitely Pool Boy.
I ripped the necklace from my throat…not wanting him to see me wear it—that would put me at a vulnerable disadvantage after all.
I parked the car and watched as he walked away…
…here was God…giving me my serendipitous moment.
But God can’t do it all on his own.
“You didn’t wanna stop and give a girl a hello?” I texted Pool Boy.
“That WAS you!” he texted back.
We caught up over coffee. I had missed his face, and so I soaked it in. We left off with a warm hug and the promise to stay in touch. Fondness doesn’t always have to fade…it can simply morph into a longer lasting bond.
But the true connection that day was between God and me. One year later, adorned in the gift he had given me—the gift I had scorned since our breakup—and here Pool Boy was for me to bump in to…movie magic in the heart of Hollywood. I heard God loud and clear:
“Silly girl,” he said. “I will give you your kismet the way I see fit, when I see fit, how I see fit, and with whom I see fit. Trust me…and be patient.”
Trust comes easy for me…patience much less so, and in my impatience I find myself now seeing God in illusions snake charmed by the devil…but that’s another story for another day. For now, I’ll dance with the energy as it comes…and try not to yell at God so much.